


The One War Dean Winchester Couldn't Win

by AlysWren



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal, Angry Sex, Dominance, M/M, One Shot, PWP, Restraint, Smut, Struggling, i'm not even sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 21:08:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1164547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlysWren/pseuds/AlysWren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is fed up with Dean's increasingly reckless behavior, and confronts him.  (I'm so sorry, I really suck at summaries)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One War Dean Winchester Couldn't Win

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous Tumblr Prompt: dominant cas, that they fight for the dominance..or something? 
> 
> After brainstorming, the only way I can see them fighting over who’s the one to be dominant is via angry sex. And angry sex is never a bad thing, in my opinion.
> 
> I posted this MONTHS and MONTHS ago on my supersecret Destiel Tumblr ( http://deancassmut.tumblr.com/ ) - and have decided to publish it elsewhere because, upon rereading it, I decided that it wasn't 100% horrible, and deserved to be shared.

“If you have something to say, then say it to my face, Cas.” Dean barked, slamming the door behind himself. He could tell already this wasn’t going to be a good evening. After the shitfest that just went down, the last thing he needed was a scowling angel waiting for him in his motel room.

“You already know my opinion, Dean.” Castiel responded, taking great care to keep his voice even.

“Yeah, and you can keep your opinions to yourself.” Dean threw his coat on the nearby desk. “Unless you’re here to patch me up, I really don’t wanna hear it.” And he didn’t. He was beyond pissed at the moment.

“Dean, this is a problem, and it needs to be addressed.” Castiel insisted, crossing his arms. “Just when I think you can’t do anything else to surprise me, you run off and do something even stupider than last time.” He sighed, slouching his shoulders.

Dean grunted, reaching under the cheap table to the cooler containing his beer. The bottles were warm, and that didn’t help his mood at all. His scowl deepened as he turned back to Castiel. “What I do is my own fucking business, Cas. I don’t need you mothering me just because I have a job to do.”

Castiel glowered at the hunter, his fury practically oozing from his pores. “You know, I’m starting to think that you’re going out of your way to find more and more dangerous jobs, hoping that one of them will kill you off.”

Dean blinked once, slowly. “Yeah? Is that what you think?” He forced a laugh, popping the cap off his warm beer bottle and raising the drink to his lips. “Well maybe you’re right.”

Castiel started, his expression shifting rapidly from anger to despair and back. “Dean, you are the most childish person I have eve—”

“What? I’m childish?” Dean interrupted him, taking several steps to close the distance between the two of them. “You’re one to talk, Cas. I shouldn’t have to babysit you every time something human flies over your celestial understanding. I have a job to do, and I’m going to fucking do it. If you have a problem with that, then you have no business here.” He was yelling now, screaming right into Castiel’s face.

Castiel closed his eyes, taking a slow breath. “Yes, I do think you are childish. Childish and reckless. Why are you so intent on dying, Dean?”

Dean took a step back, staring at Castiel in disbelief. The nerve of this angel. He didn’t ask to be pulled out of Hell. He didn’t ask to be saved. He certainly didn’t ask to be babied. He looked down at his bottle. Warm beer tasted disgusting. He rose his arm, throwing the bottle as hard as he could at the mirror over the dresser. It shattered, splashing glass and warm liquid across the room. “So what if I do? What do I have that’s worth all the shit that I go through? Ellen and Jo are dead, Sam-the-soulless is off doing who-knows-what behind my back, Lisa won’t even talk to me. Everything I have ever given a damn about has been ripped out from under me, Cas.” He closed the space between them again. He lowered his voice so that he wasn’t yelling, but his voice was still saturated in his misery. “So you tell me, Cas. Tell me one god damned thing that I still have that’s worth not-dying over.”

Castiel blinked rapidly, taking a step back from Dean. This was certainly not the answer he had expected. He didn’t like it. His expression hardened. This was unacceptable. He reclaimed the step he had lost, raising his hands to push Dean’s shoulders. He stepped forward, pushing Dean back into the nearest wall. “Do you really think your life is so worthless!?”

Dean gasped as his back slammed against the wall, knocking the breath out of his lungs. “The hell, Cas?” He pushed himself off the wall, raising a hand to punch the angel. He could only take so much, and this by far, had crossed a line.

Castiel didn’t give him the chance, pushing him back against the wall. “One reason worth not-dying?” His hands reached for Dean’s wrists, yanking them up and pinning them against the wall on either side of the hunter’s head. “Fine.” He closed the space between their faces, pressing their lips together.

Dean froze instantly. Castiel was… kissing him?! He snarled into the kiss, refusing to give in. He was angry, damn it, and a kiss wasn’t going to distract him from that. He pushed against Castiel’s grip with everything he had, shocking even himself when he managed to make Castiel stumble backwards a few steps. “Don’t you fucking dare, Cas.” he hissed.

Castiel stared at him. “You wanted one reason.”

Dean stared at him for a long moment, adrenaline pumping through his veins. So what if Castiel was right. When he infiltrated that Vampire nest, he wasn’t expecting to come out alive. He was angry. Not because he survived. Because he was alone. He took a breath, looking at Castiel; really LOOKING at him. All at once, he rushed forward, grabbing the collar of Castiel’s trench coat, and pulled him close, smashing their lips together.

Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist, pulling him flush against his own body. Their kiss was anything but passionate. Just like the shouting, it was another fight. A war between their tongues and teeth, fighting to come put on top. Castiel bit at Dean’s lip hard enough to taste blood, Dean bit down on his invading tongue. Neither were willing to back down, neither were willing to pull away until the other had admitted defeat.

Breath became an obstacle for them both, and with great reluctance they pulled away at the same time to gasp for the air their lungs demanded. They stared at each other for a long moment. The fire was still in their eyes. The anger, the determination, the fight. Dean made the first move, leaning in to recapture Castiel’s lips, his hands pushing the trench coat and suit jacket off the angel’s shoulders.

Castiel shrugged the garments off, grabbing for Dean’s shirt. Screw it. He really wasn’t interested in separating his lips from Dean’s at the moment. With a firm yank, he ripped the front of the shirt, yanking it off Dean’s body and tossing it carelessly aside. His aggressiveness was returned in kind, grinning as he felt Dean rip at his own shirt. Buttons flew every which way as the dress shirt was ruined. Right now, he didn’t care.

Dean trailed his lips down Castiel’s jawline, kissing and biting carelessly as he moved lower and lower until he could bury himself in the crook of Castiel’s neck. His hands slid down the angel’s chest, tugging at the single button and zipper that held his pants up.

Castiel tilted his head back, his frown cast upwards to the ceiling. He shifted slightly, starting as he heard the crunch of broken glass under his shoes. He thought over his options. The Vampire nest, the yelling, the kissing, the stripping. Everything was a personal war for Dean, one that he fought to win, but expected to lose. But he’d win anyway, and he’d hate himself for it. Maybe what he needed *was* to lose?

Nodding to himself, Castiel rose his hands to Dean’s arms. He twisted and pushed, knocking Dean backwards into the nearest mattress and crawled immediately on top of him. He grabbed for Dean’s wrists again, pinning them down as his lips honed in on Dean’s neck.

Dean growled in defiance, pushing up against the hands holding him down. He wouldn’t go down that easily. He wrapped his legs in a tangle around Castiel’s, tangling limbs into a restricting knot. He leaned to his right, then pushed with all his weight up and left, fighting to turn the table and come out on top.

Castiel knew better. He had anticipated the shift, and lifted himself up and away from Dean’s chest as he attempted to twist. His hands found purchase on Dean’s right shoulder then, pushing him into his twist and forcing him onto his stomach.

Dean shouted in pain, untwisting his legs from Castiel’s to avoid the stinging pain in his hips from twisting only half his body. Who thought this was a good idea, anyway. He tried to raise himself up onto his elbows, gasping as he was pushed back down into the bed by the angel straddling his back. “Cas, fucking get off me, man.”

Castiel wiggled only enough to turn away from Dean. He sat on Dean’s back, facing his legs. He was confident in his strength that Dean wouldn’t be able to find the strength to push himself up off the bed, or shake him off his back. Instead, he leaned forward, focusing his attention on Dean’s pants. He frowned as he realized that pants really weren’t designed to be removed upside-down and backwards. He had already ruined a shirt, why not just get these out of the way, too? He grabbed at the denim fabric, ripping it into shreds until it was lose enough to push down to the hunter’s knees. Satisfied with this, he climbed off the larger man to remove his own pants.

Dean was on the move. He surprised himself by how fast he was able to move; kicking off the ripped remains of his own pants, and grabbing at Castiel’s hips to pull him back onto the bed. He threw Castiel onto his back, climbing onto his lap and kissed the angel. Sort of kissing. More biting and gnawing and sucking. Another war. He was anything but gentle, demanding Castiel’s full attention with his lips while his fingers grabbed handfulls of Castiel’s hair.

Not one to be distracted, Castiel had other ideas. If it was a war Dean wanted, it would be a war he’d get. His fingers danced over the fabric of Dean’s boxer briefs, pulling at the fabric. Dean complied without a fight, raising himself up onto his knees. It surprised Castiel, who wasted no time to pull the offending garment down as far as he could. His reward was in his hands as quickly as he could. Dean’s cock was hard and throbbing already. He smiled into the viscous kiss as Dean’s breath hitched from his touch.

Dean squirmed himself free of the damned undergarments - why did he even wear them? Wait, wasn’t he supposed to be angry? He pushed at Castiel’s shoulders, pushing the man as hard as he could. He willed for the angel to be pinned underneath him, willed for Castiel to lose the next war, and the next, and the next. Dean would win, Dean would always win. But when Castiel twisted them around, and he suddenly found himself pinned face down in the bed again - naked this time! - it dawned on him that he already had lost this war.

Castiel watched as Dean’s struggling still. He didn’t need to read Dean’s thoughts to know that the hunter had just now realized how picking a war with an angel was already a lost cause before it even began. He smiled, dragging his fingers down the hunter’s back. “You enjoy the fight. Fight me.” he said calmly as his fingers trailed to the base of Dean’s spine.

And then it dawned on him. What Castiel was doing. Giving him exactly what he needed. A fight. No vampires, no djinn, no demons, nothing dangerous or life-threatening. An honest, genuine fight. One that he could actually lose. Because Castiel was right. He was going into fight after fight looking for an excuse to die, looking to lose. As much as he wanted to lose, he was terrified of the thought. Of not being good enough. Here, though… He could lose to Castiel, and the angel wouldn’t think anything less of him. He needed to fight, and Castiel had given his blessing.

With renewed vigor, Dean struggled anew under Castiel’s hips. It was different, though, and he knew it. Before, he fought with rage. Now, he fought for the pleasure of the struggle. He knew it; Castiel probably knew it. It didn’t matter. He wanted to fight, he wanted to lose. He shifted his weight from side to side, trying to toss the smaller body off his back.

Castiel smirked, placing one hand between Dean’s shoulder blades. “No, Dean. You don’t get to win this fight. This one is mine.” He shifted his legs, raising himself off of Dean only enough to pull Dean’s hips up off the bed, forcing the hunter up onto his knees. “You are mine.”

Dean shivered, a moan escaping his lips before he could stop it. He struggled against the hand on his back, pressing his wrists over the top of his head. He tried to push himself up onto his elbows, his muscles visibly straining with the effort. He gasped as he sagged weightlessly into the bed. He tried to slide his legs out from under him, thwarted as Castiel shifted to kneel behind him.

Castiel pressed himself against Dean’s exposed ass, moving his unoccupied hand to draw shapeless strokes along the exposed flesh. He pulled his hand away for only the sparse few seconds it took for him to suck on his own fingers. “Relax,” he instructed, lowering his hand to Dean’s ass. Slowly he pressed his index finger into Dean.

Dean grunted as he felt the intrusion, squirming and trying to get away from the offending finger. He tried for a second time to lift himself up, at least onto his elbows, but Castiel’s hand was still pressed not-so-gently on his back. He pressed his cheek into the mattress, watching Castiel as best he could over his shoulder.

Castiel’s finger worked at Dean in a slow, rhythmic pace. Curling his finger to coax the muscles to relax, he moved on to add his middle finger only when he was confident it would cause minimal pain to Dean.

Dean growled. “Cas, damn it…” he mumbled, going for a third attempt to lift himself up off the bed. “If you’re going to fuck me, stop being so gentle. I’m not going to break.” Of course he failed this latest attempt to free himself, and now his muscles were screaming at him from their unsuccessful exertions.

“I dislike causing you harm, Dean.” Castiel responded, scissoring his fingers methodically. “You aren’t a cheap toy to be used. You are to be cherished.” And it was true. It wasn’t often when he had the opportunity to be (as Dean had taught him the lingo) the ‘top.’ He held himself back, and he took his time. His only concern was that Dean enjoyed himself, and he knew the preparation could be painful, if it wasn’t done properly. It was a foreign concept to him that someone would enjoy receiving pain, and Dean’s wishes that he not take his time never failed to leave him with a not-so-friendly reminder that he’d never fully understand humans.

Dean may actually have mewled. It was hard to say, with him turning his face to bury the sound into the bedsheets. He leaned back, pressing himself further onto Castiel’s fingers. “Cas,” he mumbled. This really was taking too long, he decided. “Cas, please…”

Castiel sighed, giving in to Dean’s wishes. Normally, he’d have preferred to have an hour of just using his fingers. Dean was ever-impatient, and difficult to refuse. He removed his hand from Dean’s back, pulling away from the hunter for several moments. He knew where Dean kept a bottle of lube in his jacket. Not that it was used often, but the older Winchester made a point to always have an emergency bottle.

Dean took a deep breath as he felt the hand remove from his back. Oh, that was much better. Finally able to prop himself up onto his elbows, he savored this small victory (not that it was really a victory at all) as he watched Castiel from the corner of his eye. He smiled lazily as Castiel crawled back onto the bed, coating himself with the lube. “Please,” he repeated.

It was endearing to hear the desperation and need in Dean’s voice. Castiel could only smile as he positioned himself at Dean’s entrance. “You are mine.” he stated as a fact as he pushed himself forward. He had to hold his breath to hold back the moan he wanted to let out. He pushed forward faster than he’d like, certain that his haste was causing Dean discomfort. He whispered a thousand apologies in his head, willing and wishing Dean wasn’t in a great deal of pain.

It hurt, sure. It always hurt at first. Dean wasn’t exactly used to it, but he knew that the pain was only a brief prelude to the pleasure. He groaned, curling his fingers into tight fists. He pushed himself back on Castiel’s cock. He pressed his forehead against his wrists, doing everything in his power to control his panting. “Cas… Cas, oh fuck…”

Castiel tilted his his head to the side, groaning as he felt himself press fully into Dean. “I need you,” he breathed, digging his fingers into Dean’s hips. Slowly, he pulled himself out of Dean, savoring the feeling of the tightness wrapped around his throbbing member.

Dean failed to hold back the moan in the back of his throat. He lifted his head, letting Cas’s name drag on his lips in a long, pleading plea. It was euphoric, the feeling of his angel sliding in and out of his ass; the alternation between feeling full and complete, and empty, needing more. Castiel always went too slow. “I need you,” he mimicked Castiel’s words, arching his back as a shiver ran up his spine. He swayed back and forth, matching Castiel’s thrusts to urge him on.

Faster. Harder. Deeper. Castiel knew what Dean needed, and could deny him nothing. He thrust his hips harder and faster, lifting Dean’s hips to reposition his thusts. He knew he was hitting the right spot judging by the loud gasp he was rewarded with. Castiel could live off that sound; he could only imagine the contorted look of absolute pleasure on Dean’s face. Shame he didn’t take Dean on his back this time.

Dean was lost to the pleasure, what with Castiel slamming into his prostrate again and again. Wasn’t he supposed to be angry? Wasn’t he supposed to fight back? Hell with that. He closed his eyes and focused only on the waves of pleasure ripping themselves up and down his spine. Or was that Castiel’s fingers? He couldn’t tell anymore. He pushed himself up onto his hands, struggling to make himself more comfortable. He had expected Castiel to shift behind him. He hadn’t expected Castiel to grab his shoulders and pull his back to press against his chest. And he certainly didn’t expect Castiel’s hand to wrap around his cock.

Moments like this were to be savored, Castiel decided. His cock submerged fully into Dean, and the hunter’s cock pulsing in his hand. Dean Winchester always had been, and always would be, only his. He stroked his fingers along the stiff length in time with his own thrusts. This war he was determined to win. This war, Dean would lose.

Dean was unraveling faster than he thought possible. It was too much. Too much. He hadn’t even realized how close he was, until he found himself screaming out Castiel’s nickname and ruining the bedsheets with his seed. He tensed and spasmed around Castiel, reaching behind himself to touch any part of the angel he could reach.

Castiel buried his face in the crook of Dean’s neck as he found his own release, spilling himself deep inside his precious Winchester. His breathing labored as he came down from his euphoric high, peppering kisses on Dean’s neck and shoulder. He slowly pulled himself out of Dean, laughing as the hunter promptly fell forward and collapsed, exhausted, on the bed. Carefully avoiding the small pool of white in the center of the bed, he allowed himself to lay next to his charge. “So, you tell me, Dean. Tell me one thing that’s worth not-dying over.”

 

Dean laughed at that, his own question thrown back at him. He propped himself up onto his elbows and glanced over at Castiel. He took an honest moment to think about how to respond. He’d lost so much, and he hadn’t even truly realized what he still had. He leaned across the bed, pressing his lips against Castiel’s. “You.”


End file.
